It's Become A Bad Habit
by fangirl6.3.6
Summary: After Tywin and Cersei's hostility after the Blackwater, and some deeper rooted motives, Tyrion goes over to House Stark. Bronn goes with him. BronnxTyrion. Based on a dream.
1. Turncloak

The last time Tyrion Lannister had been in the presence of a Stark was when he presented the saddle plans to the crippled boy. Bran, was it? The boy that Jaime and Cersei pushed out of a window. He had not thought to ever see a Stark face again, unless his head was looking back from a pike. But here he was in the presence of King Robb Stark of Winterfell, the Young Wolf, and King in the North.

The thought of why could have made him chuckle, but he had a sense that it would not be the most appropriate time. The faces in the "court" were as devoid of humor as his father was. It wasn't a court so much as large tent on a muddy field, where Robb Stark had chosen to make his camp. However, this court could bear just as heavy a sentence as one in King's Landing.

"Do I hear you correctly, Imp?" The Young Wolf was saying. He looked decidedly un-wolfish to Tyrion. The beast at his right side, however… "You mean to say you would turn your cloak, bring dishonor upon your house, forsake your family, your _sire_, to join your enemies?"

"I should hope not." Tyrion replied simply. He had no trouble speaking in front of disapproving faces. "I had thought this talk would make us the opposite of enemies." Somewhere behind him and to his right, Bronn was chuckling to himself, Tyrion knew. They shared a humor.

"You're a turncloak, a craven, and a liar. My mother, the Lady Catelyn, held you accused of attempting to murder my own brother in his bed. Your house has shown no mercy to us. Tell us why we should have any trust in you." Robb's face was cold Northern fury, and his Direwolf growled lowly.

"I have several reasons, if you'll so kindly allow me to spout them before your headsman finds himself with a new pair of boots. They'd be rather too small, I'd wager." Tyrion knew the Starks had no headsman. Robb did the chopping himself. Still, green though he was, the boots would be wasted on him.

"Say what you would, Imp." Robb commanded with a harsh nod of his head.

Tyrion turned his false-pity face to the crowd. Memories of what happened at The Vale returned to him. Bronn had saved him there, and the presence of the sellsword at Tyrion's side gave him some form of courage.

"I am a craven, it's true." He began. "I've always been a coward. Too afraid of rejection, so I'd buy my own whores." A few of the braver Northmen chuckled. "I've been tried for my crimes in The Vale and been found innocent, as your own lady mother can attest. I was the one who brought the saddle plans so your brother could ride again, if you'll recall. My house has not been doing much in regards to honoring itself. Murder, treachery, kingslaying, oathbreaking," _incest, treason…If only you knew. _"These things are honorable now? I wasn't given a choice in dishonoring my house. I was born a dwarf. I've been dishonoring them since I could walk. I'd rather my stain produced some fruit of itself.

"As to my family, well… You've known my sweet sister and honorable brother for yourselves. My sire? Perhaps I liked yours more than I liked mine. You certainly did. Ask your brother Jon Snow at The Wall. He trusted me to carry the needs of the Night's Watch to King's Landing. Did you know shortly after the Battle of the Blackwater, as I lay dying in my bed, my father never once visited? Would your father have if I were his son? Yes? Who should I support? Where is the more noble cause: family or justice?" Tyrion's sarcastic voice sounded oddly muted by the tent fabric. _Or the winning side. Or the chance to put a crossbow bolt through my lord father's bowels? _

Robb Stark didn't need to think it over. "I believe you capable of spite enough to leave your family, but don't make it seem like you have honor."

_Ned Stark had honor. His head is on a spike for his daughter to look at on Joffrey's whim. _Tyrion was smart enough to hold his tongue. "I'll be useful, I swear it. I know all the Lannister secrets, and I won't run again. Where would I go? Back into my loving father's arms to die a traitor's death? If ransom is what you have in mind, I doubt you'll get a pricey offer."

Robb Stark waved his men forward to confer in whispers. Bronn had been easy to get into the ranks of the Starks. He'd served Catelyn once, and sellswords were notoriously disloyal. Tyrion would be another matter. They would watch him closely, he knew. He'd be almost a prisoner. He wouldn't mind, though. He would never dare to trade sides again. Not when vengeance was promised with the King winning all the battles. _Shae…No, don't think of her now. You should've known better. Never trust someone who sells themselves. _Tyrion smiled bitterly to himself and glanced to Bronn behind him. _I suppose it's become a bad habit. _The thought of Bronn betraying him left bile in the back of his mouth. His last friend, a cutthroat.

The sellsword noticed Tyrion watching after all this time. He gave a confused look to the King in the North and then shrugged, as if to say "I don't know. Don't ask me."

Bronn had been loyal, to come all this way with Tyrion, to uncertainty and possible death. Of course, Tyrion had been paying him well. But now that the Lannister gold was out of reach… _Bronn hasn't thought of that yet. He wouldn't have stayed if he had. _

His thoughts were interrupted by Robb Stark dismissing his men. "Alright, Dwarf, I'll believe you turned your cloak. I suspect you of spying, but you're too useful an ally to dismiss without solid reason. I do _not_ believe you would forsake the Lannister name simply because your father neglected to show his concern. Tell me truthfully, what is it you want of this?"

_Shae…Revenge…My sister dead, my father dead…My shit of a nephew in the ground… _None of those would please Lord Stark, or, King Robb as he'd have to say now. "What do I want? I want only what is mine by right. I doubt very much you'll leave my father to his own when this war is over. I imagine at some point you'll need to take his castle. My brother is a kingsguard, my sister is Queen Regent, my father is a treacherous murderer. You need one friend in the south." This time Tyrion's eyes met Robb's. "Give me Casterly Rock."

***I know Cersei didn't push Bran out of the window. But Tyrion hates Cersei and he loves Jaime so I don't think he'd lay the blame completely on Jaime for this one. For those saying it's so out of character for Tyrion to abandon his house, read a Dance of Dragons or watch the last episode of season 4. You'll see how much he thinks of Lannisters then. This will get more suspenseful as it goes on. This first chapter was just to get Tyrion in with the Starks.  
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	2. In The Company Of Wolves

Tyrion slept fitfully that night. Every time he closed his eyes he saw his father, he saw Shae… He saw the man his sister had sent to have him killed. If it weren't for Podrick Payne, he'd be dead. He owed Pod his life, or at least some safety. That was why he hadn't allowed the squire to come with him. He'd given him a small fortune of gold and sent him on his way. He'd be squired to some other highborn lad or knight now. Perhaps Meryn Trant or one of the Kettleblacks. That would be unfortunate.

As he lay awake, listening to Bronn's snoring across the small tent, he wondered if Sansa Stark would ever send an assassin to kill Rickon in battle. He thought of how Ned had stayed beside Bran's bed as long as he'd been able, before King Robert ordered him away. He even noticed how much they all seemed to love Jon, with the exception of Cat.

He wondered if any of them had ever kept a whore. Theon Greyjoy had, he knew. What would they have done if they discovered? Would they have taken it out on the whore, humiliated her and given her to their guards?

Tyrion rolled over, the lumpy pallet of straw shifting and scraping against the muddy ground. He'd been awarded a lesser lord's tent, with guards on the watch, and an escort wherever he went. A prisoner, but a well fed one. Catelyn Stark had been no less at one point.

He could hear his father's voice in his head. "You bring shame upon your family name." _And just what honor have you brought to it, Father? Our sweet Cersei and honorable Jaime. Yes, the twin-fuckers. You're so proud of them. _

He shifted again, this time to look out across the length of the tent to where Bronn was sprawled on his own straw mattress. The Young Wolf was skeptical about allowing Tyrion to keep the sellsword with him, but Bronn was what he was called, and a sellsword obeys the person with the money. An extra guard, where was the harm. Luckily Robb Stark didn't know Tyrion still had the money.

In the darkness before dawn, Tyrion wished for Shae. Her sweet, slender arms wrapped around him, the warmth of her body pressed to his… _No, don't think of her. _The way she talked softly and sweetly, the way he could tell her anything… He wanted his love, what he had was Bronn. Shae wouldn't have minded if he woke her, to talk or just to fuck. He doubted he could wake Bronn if he tried.

At least he could talk to Bronn like he talked to Shae. The day he'd met her, they'd all three shared stories of their past in a drinking game. Shae had been rather cryptic about it all. _Bronn was the one who found her for you_, Tyrion recalled, _stole her from some knight so you might have a good fuck. Look where that got you. _

Angry, he turned over again roughly. _It's the gold she loved, not you. Just like Tysha, just like Bronn, just like everyone else. Only Pod was ever truly loyal, Pod and Jaime. But Cersei has Jaime wrapped around her little finger. _Tyrion desperately needed a bottle of wine. He turned around again, sitting up. He was to be accorded every courtesy, for a prisoner, and surely wine was part of that. He could have his guards summon a stable boy, or perhaps drink with the king himself. He mused at that notion. Robb was with his little exotic queen, the girl that cost him the war. Tyrion didn't have much room for criticism on that note.

"If you keep moving around, I'll have to knock you out myself." Bronn's irritated voice broke through Tyrion's thoughts.

The dwarf rolled his eyes, though in truth, it was good to hear another person speak. "I'm almost inclined to let you." He responded. "Though I'd resent giving you the satisfaction. I'm afraid I can't sleep with a good bottle of wine settling in my stomach."

"I can't sleep with you trying to shake down the tent over there." Bronn argued. "I thought the whole point of this was to be treated better, not worse."

"You're a swellsword. All you need to worry about is the coin in your pocket." Tyrion returned groggily. "Once all of this is over, I'll have Casterly Rock and all the gold inside of it. Some of that gold will be yours."

"Most of that gold better be mine for what I'm going through. Used to be, we was in feather beds at a castle. Now we're slopping in the muck like pigs."

_We _were _in feather beds. _Tyrion corrected mentally. "I suppose your life before you gave me your services was all honey-cakes and expensive whores as well. You'd have never seen the inside of a castle if it weren't for me."

"Now I know what I'm missing." Bronn shrugged. "And if you keep waking me up, I'll expect my own castle by the time this war's over."

"When I am lord of Casterly Rock, I can give you a castle." Tyrion replied. "And not before. You've already won your lordship. Be content with that for now."

"I'd be more content if I was asleep."

Tyrion sighed, annoyed. "If you would let me get a swallow of wine, it might be that I'll let you sleep."

Bronn lay back down, throwing the thin blanket over his face as Tyrion waddled to the door of the tent. The guards were not happy to see him. Rarely anyone in the camp actually was.

"Where are you trying to go at this hour, Halfman?" One asked gruffly, an old man with a beard as scratchy as his voice.

"I was hoping there might be some wine to find in this thrice-acursed mud hole." Tyrion answered amiably.

"Why should we give _you _any wine?" The other guard butted in. He was young and cocky, with blond hair and downy peach fuzz on his chin. He reminded Tyrion of his cousin Lancel.

"It makes no matter who gives me the wine, so long as I get it." Tyrion replied smartly. "I believe King Robb said I was to be accorded every courtesy. Surely wine is included." _Along with the guards to stab me if I run, which is more than I'd ever had in King's Landing. _

The big man turned to the Lancel look-alike. "You heard 'im, Webbyr." He snorted in deep laughter. "Go scurry and fetch my Lord of Lannister some wine. Maybe wipe his arse while you're at it."

_I'm the only Lord of Lannister on your side. _Tyrion felt like reminding them both. "Excellent, you have my thanks Webbyr. Bring the wine into my tent when you have it, although I'll have no need of your assuredly excellent wiping services." Webbyr reddened and stamped his spear into the mud.

Tyrion turned on his heel and waddled back into the tent. They were laughing at him, he knew, not with him. He didn't care a fig if they brought the wine now.

Bronn was still under his scratchy blanket, one leg hanging off the straw mattress. "Right where I left you…" Tyrion chuckled. Bronn covered his face again.

"You keep talking, I'll stab you and take your gold for meself."

"I have a much better idea. Go stab the guards outside, and bring me some wine. Then we can both sleep easier."

"Everyone sleeps well when they're short a head, which is what your Young Wolf will pay me for your wine." Bronn gave up on sleep and threw off the blanket, sitting.

Tyrion was slightly pleased. If he couldn't sleep, he may as well talk to someone. "I'm sure the King in the North enjoys his drink as much as any man. His guards though, well, I found them to be rather less than pleasing."

"You've never much liked guards." Bronn noted. "You prefer to take company with Clansmen and Sellswords."

"Would that I had those Clansmen with me now." Tyrion said. "Alas, my father sent them off." _And tried to buy you with a Lordship. Did it work, Ser Bronn? Will you be my next Shae? _

"I liked them better than these pampered shits." Bronn agreed. "But you're working for them now. The King in the North. What use could he possibly have for you?"

"Tomorrow, I'm to meet with him and discuss what I know of my father's strengths and battle plans. I'll bring you along, of course. Half of his men want my head on a pike, and the other half want to fuck me first." Tyrion raised his eyebrows sarcastically.

"You're too ugly to fuck." Bronn replied easily. "At least in King's Landing you had people to bring you wine."

"In King's Landing, I lay dying in bed, and _you _visited me more often than my own father."

"Aye, I did." Bronn responded, shrugging and looking at the dirt floor.

_Yes, but I pay you. _Tyrion thought but did not say. "And my own sister sent a man to kill me. And Shae…"

Bronn seemed annoyed at her name, but his tone didn't convey it. "Your whore. You knew what she was. I was there when you told her about Tysha. That's two."

"Yes, I've quite learned my lesson, thank you." Tyrion scratched at the scar on his nose irritatedly. "Where's my wine? I told them to bring it, bugger those guards. Twice, yes, twice betrayed. But you know what they say: the third time's the charm. I'm sure Robb's army has some camp followers. Bring me one and we'll see how fast I fall for her."

"There are two things you can never trust." Bronn responded. "A woman and someone you pay. You say you learned your lesson, now remember it. Don't trust someone whose loyalty comes for gold. The gold always runs out."

_I trust you. _Tyrion protested in his mind. _My gold is all but dry. _"Then I'm not surprised by Robb Stark's suspicions. All I want is Casterly Rock, and that has more gold in it than all the north."

"Why do you want that bloody rock so badly anyway?" Bronn asked. "If you've told me true it's been nothing but a mummer's show for you from the day your mother died."

"It is mine by birthright." Tyrion defended. "Once I am lord of The Rock, they can hardly call me a mummer then."

"Unless we lose." Bronn's words were light and easy, brushed off like a fly, but they struck Tyrion to the bone. Robb had lost have his army for his Volantine bride, and relations with the Karstarks were getting worse. They disapproved of the Lady Talisa. If The North didn't win, everyone else may accept a peace, but Tyrion would certainly die.

"Unless we lose." He echoed. Now he wasn't in the mood to talk anymore, and flopped onto what counted for his bed.

Bronn seemed relieved he might be allowed to actually sleep now, turning to face the tent wall. Tyrion realized he was wrong. The silence was worse.

He was left thinking about everything Bronn had said. _Don't trust someone who sells themselves. I only care about the gold. Growing up, you were nothing but a mummer's show. _Not the exact words, but the meaning behind them. "Where did _you _grow up, Bronn?"

A heavy sigh came from across the room. "Does it matter?"

"You know where _I _grew up."

"Every cunt alive knows where you grew up."

"I didn't ask where I grew up."

"You wouldn't know it. Small village, near the fork, under Riverrun." The mattress shifted as Bronn turned to get comfortable.

The silence crept back in for a while, and Tyrion shivered with the autumn cold. _Winter is coming. Ironic. _"Did you ever lose a parent?" He didn't know why he said it; it just slipped out.

"No, but there were times I wished one of them would piss off the wrong lord and get their head hacked off." The words were as easy and emotionless as the night Tyrion had met Shae. _"Your father beat you when you were little." Aye, but me mother hit harder. _

"I lost my mother." Tyrion supplied. "Of course, there's no point in me telling you. Every cunt alive knows about my mother." _I never knew her, but I missed her. How can you miss someone you've never met? _Too late did Tyrion realize he'd said the words out loud. "Of course, Cersei and Father always blamed me." He covered quickly. "Since they missed her so much, I'll just help them all to be reunited." No one was ever meant to know that, and Bronn wouldn't want to hear it anyway.

Bronn was quiet for a long time. Tyrion almost turned around to see what had him so tongue-tied when he heard the loud snore. _Of course. _He couldn't help but smile.

*** Hey guys, feel free to tell me what you expect or would like to happen in this fic. I'm not completely closed to ideas. This was a fun chapter to write, even if it is filler. I want you guys to get nice and comfortable before I bring in the plot twist.  
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	3. Betrayal

Tyrion woke to the sound of war horn. For a moment, he fell out of bed in terror, thinking his father's army had surprised them in the night, before he realized it was only calling the soldiers to march. He sat up, confused, and scratched the scar on his nose. Wasn't he supposed to council the Young Wolf today?

As if on cue, a guard pushed open the tent flap, looking at Tyrion on the ground and Bronn still snoring with distaste. "Dress yourself, Imp." The guard ordered gruffly, "You're to ride at the head of the column with the king."

That made Tyrion's eyebrows rise. The head of the column was usually a place of high honor. Of course, the king probably didn't want to waste time stopping for a war council with a Lannister. Tyrion dressed quickly in some of the simpler clothes he had packed. He didn't expect to find anything fitted for him in this camp.

Bronn was still sleeping, or pretending to, or trying to get back to it. Tyrion tossed his pillow at the sellsword's face. "Wake up. The King in the North has need of me." Tyrion was not about to leave the tent without the protection of Bronn's swords and daggers.

Bronn grumbled something unintelligible and threw the thin scratchy blankets to the floor. He sat up and rubbed his stubbly face and then yawned. "I don't like none of this waking up before the dawn." He complained.

Any _of this. _Tyrion corrected in his head. "Once this war is won you can sleep as long as you like, in a castle of your own."

"Aye, but will I be able to wake up again, that's the question." Bronn shrugged into boiled leather, the only armor he wore. "If the North wins, that'd be a yes. If the south wins…" He let his meaning trail off.

Tyrion shivered. It was the morning chill, surely. "The South won't win, not with me planning its strategies. My sweet sister should have taken note of my talents at the Blackwater. Perhaps now she will see what a sharp edged mind I possess."

Luckily Tyrion had thought to bring his special saddle, or he wouldn't have been able to sit a horse at all. The Young Wolf kept a sharp pace, his Direwolf always loping at his side. The beast was almost as unnatural as Jon Snow's albino, Ghost. Tyrion found himself wondering how Jon was doing. The last time he had seen him, he'd called him friend and told him stories of dragon's fire. He wondered what Jon thought of him now.

The King in the North rode with his mother, Lord Roose Bolton, Lord Rickard Karstark, The Lady Talisa, and the Greatjon Umber. It was all much too crowded for Tyrion's taste. Bronn could hardly keep his horse close enough to settle the dwarf's nerves.

It wasn't until noon that Robb Stark actually called for Tyrion's council, much to the annoyance of Karkstark and Bolton. "Tell me what you know of your father's army, Imp." The King so graciously commanded.

"I know that at present they must needs repair their ships from the Battle of Blackwater Bay." Tyrion supplied. "I know my father lost many men, but King's Landing lost more, and a good deal still remain to both of their armies."

"And now, with Stannis gone, all their attention can focus on us." Robb said darkly. "I know of this. Bring me new tidings."

Tyrion scratched at the scar on his nose. "Very well, your grace." He didn't manage to keep as much sarcasm out of that as he wished. "Harrenhall is sparsely held at the moment, Moat Cailin is held by the Iron Islanders. An outlaw band called The Brotherhood Without Banners is sweeping across the south." When it seemed that Stark was growing annoyed with these small tidbits, Tyrion let the dragon fall. "My father does not plan to meet you in the field."

Now Robb looked at him. "Explain." He said simply.

"He knows you are eager to end this war. He is willing to wait the rest of his life if need be. He is counting on your…courage," _Inexperience, _"to make you bring your army to Casterly Rock. Reinforcements from King's Landing will be laying in wait for you, and you will be caught between Lord Tywin's army and the sea. He will pull back to one castle or another and wait. He will let your army grow restless and homesick in the field with no one to fight, until they turn on you or force you to march on The Rock."

Robb was listening with rapt attention, staring at the ground darkly as if that was the Lannister army and he could slay them all with a glare. "What would you have me do, then?"

_No use of the word Imp. Perhaps you're growing fond of me, Lord Stark. _"Winter is coming. Those are your words. You northerners know how to endure in a winter. We southerners do not. Pull back, take all your men to Winterfell. Your castle is large enough to hold the majority, and the rest can guard the outer walls and small folk. Winterfell is easier to defend than attack, and the winter snows and lack of food will slay a marching army faster than swords."

Robb thought it over for a while. "My Lord father always said that 500 men could hold Winterfell against 10,000." He frowned. "My sisters are captives in King's Landing."

"One sister," Tyrion supplied. "Arya escaped us when Lord Eddard was taken. No one knows where she is. She could be on her way back to Winterfell this moment." _Or lying dead in a ditch._ "As to Sansa, she is to be married to Loras Tyrell of HighGarden. The last I saw her, she was quite happy. She'll be safe there among the Tyrells. Lady Margaery has taken a liking to her, and she has always dreamed of southern songs and courts. HighGarden will suit her." _Instead of marrying me, as they had planned. With no one else to offer, they will have to consent to marry her to Loras. Unless they wish for Cersei to have her. _Tyrion could have chuckled.

A weight seemed to have been lifted from Robb's shoulders at the news. "You would have us retreat?"

"Yes. My lord father has laid you a trap if you go south, and there is nothing for you in King's Landing. If you turn back North, winter will slay the enemy for you. At least wait until summer to attack, when spirits are lifted. Perhaps the South may have already surrendered by then. You said yourself they cannot take Winterfell, if they can get there first."

"We would run back with our tails between our legs." Robb shook his head.

"You would also run back with your heads on your shoulders." Tyrion argued. "Your men are tired, and your smallfolk starve. You have all of the North to care for now, you are King. Keep your taxes from King's Landing, answer any summons to swear fealty with another declaration of freedom, and my Lord Father will chase after you. Or perhaps he may just let you go, if he lives out the winter. This will give you time to deal with the Ironborn."

"What of my bannermen in the south?" Robb asked, meaning Tully. It seemed to Tyrion that the young king was becoming more amiable throughout the conversation. Perhaps _he _saw the sense in Tyrion's wisdom, unlike Cersei.

"Have them use their men to guard their castles, if they do not wish to travel north with you. Employ men to hold the neck, and hardly anyone can pass. Remember, my father does not plan to attack."

"I would end this war _before _summer." Robb protested.

"If the men go back to their North, it make no difference that the high lords say there is still a war. It will be peace to them, or near enough as makes no matter. Let them go back to their homes if they so wish. The Tullys, the men at the neck, the Crannogmen will all warn us if my father marches north. You will have ample time to call to arms."

Robb nodded solemnly. "I will think on all you have said, Dwarf." He reigned in his horse and rode back to his wife and mother.

"I think that went rather well." Tyrion said to Bronn as he rode up beside him.

"Better than your talks with your father, I'm guessing?" Bronn chuckled.

Tyrion found the sellsword's smile contagious. "Significantly. Now I could go for some good wine."

"I'd prefer me a good cup o' ale any day." Bronn replied. "Stronger, gets a man drunk quicker."

"I'd rather drink more before I'm drunk." Tyrion said. "But I'd rather be drunk than not." Tyrion reigned up his horse and galloped back to the store wagons, to see if they had the wine he spoke of. Bronn followed without being asked.

The army broke for camp at sunset. It was dark by the time the King's tent was set up, and Robb immediately called for a meeting with his High lords, wife, and mother. Bronn wasn't allowed to be privy to the King's war council, even if he did serve as Tyrion's guard. The Lord of Lannister didn't hold as much sway in the northerners company. Tyrion, of course, would be giving Robb as wise of council as he could give, and making the other lords bristle. That meant that Bronn had the small tent to himself.

He sat down on the edge of the cot and pulled the slat of wood that served for a desk in front of him. As he spread out Tyrion's parchment and ink, he noticed the queer feeling creep into the bottom of his stomach and settle like a bad bowl of brown.

_Must be this southern ale. _He told himself, fingering a quill in one hand. Bronn had never been taught how to read or write, and he never wanted to pick it up. Tyrion had tried and failed miserably several times, but a few letters still stuck in Bronn's mind. Lord Tywin had been far more persuasive. A royal pardon and a castle and a highborn wife and a fortune in gold made one's thirst for knowledge bloom.

Still, half the words he had in mind to write he didn't know how to. He tried his best, squinting at the parchment and the inkwell and the crooked letters in front of him, half guessing. What he finally got down was a much cruder version of this:

_Lord Tywin, _

_Robb Stark means to march ahead. Tyrion has told him of your plans to ambush them at Casterly Rock. Robb might listen, or he might still not trust Tyrion's word._

It had taken over an hour and a massive headache for Bronn to squeeze the words out. He read them over as best he could, blowing on the ink to dry it. Now all he had to do was find Varys's spies that Lord Tywin had sent trailing them, and they would see the letter delivered. Either that or steal a raven.

Bronn put away the ink and quill exactly where Tyrion had left them. He looked down at the letter once more, the queer feeling returning. He had left out the part about Tyrion telling Robb to hole up in Winterfell. _Robb'll never do it. He's too green. _Bronn told himself. He only wanted to send Lord Tywin what would bring him gold. There was something else too. When he tried to write the words, his hand wouldn't let him, and his stomach burned with the bad ale.

_It's his own fault. I told him not to trust me. _Bronn shook his head and stuck the letter roughly in his pocket. _It's not just for gold. Robb will lose this war, and we'll both die. Might as well one of us lives. I'll name me son after 'im, might be. _Bronn doubted he would have betrayed Tyrion just for gold. Tyrion had gold as well. But not enough to buy Bronn a new head, which is what Tywin would take if he didn't do this.

**_*_** ******_Sorry this took so long. Stuff came up and I was distracted for three days. I promise I'll try to update at least once a week. Well, now you know the plot twist, or one of them, and the real suspense can begin. I apologize for any spelling mistakes I overlooked. I wanted to get this up as fast as possible. _**


	4. The Truth

**_** Sorry this is so late. I was planning on being regular with updates, but stuff happened. I lost someone and something very important to me. So, I've been kind of depressed lately and couldn't find the drive to write this again. However, I have no intention of giving this up no matter how long it takes.**_**

Tyrion woke the next day with a blinding headache. He ordered some wine to be brought at once, much to the distaste of his guards. The Young Wolf would rally his troops sometime soon and march on, or so it seemed in the war council.

Tyrion had been sneered at and spat upon, figuratively, as he tried to make the other lords see sense. They were too caught up in pride and honor to keep their heads. _They'll be the death of me, _Tyrion thought. _If we march on we're sure to lose. _

They had accused Tyrion for a liar, saying this trap of Lord Tywin's was a mummer's farce. They thought he was spying, and urged King Robb to cut off his head. Robb at least had seemed to consider life as an option. His mother was beside herself at first, saying they had to go back to rescue Sansa and Arya, until Tyrion told her of Arya's disappearance and Sansa's probable betrothal to Loras. Of course then Lady Stark had wanted to send out multiple search parties to find her daughter, and a spy to Highgarden to hear the truth of Sansa's whereabouts.

It had taken all Tyrion's willpower not to shout out _"Arya lies dead in a gutter. There's no point wasting men to search for her." _He knew that would be most ill considered.

It had been near dawn when Robb had called the council to a close. He'd think on all of it, he'd said. Tyrion hoped it wouldn't be more thinking than to scoff at how foolish the high lords were, but he had a bad feeling.

Tyrion finished off his wine, wiping his mouth on the back of his sleeve. "Up, Bronn, we're to march soon." He said sleepily.

The sellsword grumbled as he shucked off the blankets. He stripped himself of the shirt he was wearing, his muscles pale and rippling in the dawn's light. Tyrion found himself oddly staring.

"Why can't a man ever get a full night's sleep round here?" Bronn complained, pulling a black shirt on and then a vest of boiled leather over that.

"We're at war, remember?" Tyrion scoffed, opening another wineskin. He was going to offer some to Bronn, but found himself drinking it instead.

"Once you've been in the castle, war's a bleak and gloomy life." Bronn pulled on his boots.

"We may be in another castle before winter falls." Tyrion chuckled at the play on words. "I believe Robb Stark means to march home."

Bronn looked up quickly. "Did he say that?" A troubled look passed his face, and Tyrion wondered why.

"He said the opposite, when his lords protested, but I do believe he sees the wisdom of my words." Tyrion handed the wineskin over, already half empty.

Bronn took a large swig. "It's bloody cold up north. It's warmer in King's Landing." He frowned.

Tyrion shook his head. "The climate may be warmer but the people are assuredly not. I'm sure you can find just as hot a whore for the same price."

Bronn scoffed. "You'd be the one to know, aye."

Tyrion grinned and pulled on his own leather boots. "There's a very excellent redhead. I'll have to introduce her to you."

The conversation was interrupted by the guards bursting through the tent flap. "The King commands you see him. He requests your presence and council with him at the head of the column, Imp."

With a sneer and a glare, the two returned to their posts outside the door, and Tyrion knew better than to ask them questions. He wasn't sure how long a King's wrath could stay a man's fist. "I'd best saddle up again." He muttered, faking cheer. Bronn raised his eyebrows in good humor and followed Tyrion outside into the camp.

They were on their way to where the horses were tied when they were stopped once again. The man doing the stopping wore soiled, mud stained clothes and smelled of ale. "Oy, Imp," He snarled with contempt.

Tyrion raised his eyebrows, and put on a mocking smile. "Good morning to you, sir." He tried to walk past, but the man put his hand out and caught Tyrion in the chest, halting him.

Bronn's hand went to the hilt of his sword. "Remove that hand or lose it." He said calmly, as if he were joking about something.

The drunken man ignored him. "Traitor! The King might not see through your shit, but don't think I don't!" The man's words were a drawl. His hand went to his belt.

As quick as you could blink, Bronn grabbed Tyrion by the shoulder and shoved him roughly behind him. His sword was drawn and pointed at the drunk's throat only as he was grabbing the hilt of his dagger. "I don't like repeating meself. Remove the hand or lose it." Bronn said nonchalantly.

The drunk blinked, startled. He looked at the blade of Bronn's sword as if he couldn't quite comprehend what it was. Then his mouth distorted into a snarl, and he spat. "That sellsword won't always be around, and when he's not, I'll avenge the north!" But he retracted his hand and stumbled off, falling on his face not two feet from them.

Bronn sheathed his sword again. "Very good," Tyrion praised him lightly, "Let us see to those horses."

* * *

_The Young Wolf means to march north again…_ Bronn thought to himself, in the darkness of the tent. Tyrion was still fast asleep, and the moon was high in the sky. Aside for a few watchmen about, the whole camp was asleep.

The King in the North had announced his decision that day, when Tyrion had been riding at the head of the column. The other lords, especially Karstark, cursed Robb for a coward, to which he replied "A coward with a wife and child on the way, a coward with a head, at least." Bronn wondered if Tyrion was responsible for that line.

Tywin Lannister would want to know immediately. He could crush the North as it moved back to its home. Bronn was being paid heavy gold for this job, and he'd lose his head if he didn't do it right. So here he was, back in the tent he shared with Tyrion, squinting at the letters he could barely read through the moonlight.

He began his letter, with no idea what to write. That sick feeling was back, settling heavy in his gut. He must have caught something. Why was he hesitating so much? It's because he could hardly write, obviously. Obviously, right?

_Lord Tywin, _

_More about Stark's plans. _

Here Bronn paused. How should he word it? How much information should he give? Probably all of it. That would be better. Tywin Lannister was not a man to displease.

_Lord Tywin, _

_More about Stark's plans. He means to march South, to attack Casterly Rock directly with the help of Walder Frey's army._

Bronn's hand wrote without him willing it to. That wasn't what he wanted to say. What was he doing? Trying to protect Stark's army? He was supposed to be giving out their secrets. At least he was saving his own skin. That was the point. He shook his head. Tyrion was just another face in the crowd, another temporary player in the game of swords and gold that Bronn's life had always been. He had to cross this out, start over, tell Tywin the truth.

The truth. The sick feeling got worse. Bronn looked over at Tyrion, asleep in his own cot. He didn't suspect a thing.

Bronn blinked. _That's not _my _fault._ He turned his attention back down at the parchment in front of him and raised the quill to mark out his false words. And rolled up the parchment, quill still in the air, lies still in place. _I can't believe you're doing this, you fucking idiot. _

All for Tyrion.

**_** Sorry it's short, trying to get back in the swing of things again.**_**


	5. Change In Plans

**_**I've heard everyone's suggestions. Some of them were really good. Thank you for all the reviews. It really helps, since I've been getting a lot of hate from people I'm close to about my writing.**_**

Tyrion dreamt of his family this time. All his family, even those not bound by blood.

He was on The Wall again, Jon Snow and the Direwolf walking beside him. Immediately, he knew he was dreaming. The snow wasn't nearly as cold as it had been on Tyrion's first visit, and there was no way he could've ended up at The Wall.

Suddenly, Jon called out, grabbing Tyrion's arm. The Direwolf snarled at something over the edge of the icy precipice. Tyrion stepped over to the edge calmly, Jon and the beast faded from existence. At the bottom, buried amongst the ice, was a boy. A young boy, about nine or ten, his legs bent at crooked angles, blood forming a puddle around him.

Cersei's laughter echoed through the air around them. It changed, deepened, became more insane. And somehow Tyrion knew that this was the Mad King's laugh, in the way you know things in dreams.

The scene changed. The night was dark, fires lit up encampments next to war tents. Jaime was standing there, with his back to Tyrion. Tyrion called out in greeting, but no voice left his lips.

Jaime turned around and Tyrion recoiled. It wasn't Jaime. Tywin stood looming before him. Tysha was kneeling at his feet. One of Tywin's hands was holding her hair in a fierce grip, while Tysha thrashed and cried out in pain below. Tywin had a knife to her throat with his other hand. In one fluid motion, he spilled a wash of red upon the tent floor. Tysha turned into Shae as her limp body fell. Tyrion screamed, though now all his vision was blackness.

And then there was Bronn. The sellsword standing in their small tent, a troubled look over his face. Black suspicion settled into Tyrion's stomach. Shae had betrayed him too. He loved her and she betrayed him, only for gold. Was the same thing to happen again?

His lucid thoughts were soon drowned by dreaming logic again. Fragments of questions and sentences floated him back to a deep sleep.

"Loved her, betrayed for gold." "Tywin, Tysha, Shae" "Does he have to take everyone from me?" "Gold, work for gold, only gold." "Love" "I love…" "not him too" "Tywin" "all the gold of Casterly Rock"

That day started the march North. The army was divided almost in half about the matter. Some, mostly young green boys, called it a coward's move. The older ones, with children and families, were glad to be finally going home. If they weren't going to fight anyone, they might as well get to fuck someone.

Tyrion's mind, for once, wasn't with a good fucking, however. This time, it was on Bronn. Specifically, his occupation. And whether or not Tyrion could actually trust him. Bronn wasn't completely stupid; he knew that Tyrion didn't have a third of the wealth he had in King's Landing, or even a small fraction of what his father possessed. In fact, Tyrion scolded himself for letting the Sellsword come with him at all.

At the time, it had seemed wise. Most of the Northmen would want to kill him. And, though he didn't like to admit it, Bronn gave him courage. He almost felt like he could be protected and safe around him. Of course not, though. Bronn would stick a sword through Tyrion's back for a decent amount of gold.

What had turned Tyrion's trust into suspicion? The fact that when he woke up late that night, after his troubled, fitful dream, Bronn wasn't there. Of course, he could've been off drinking, or pissing on a tree, or with a camp follower. But Tyrion's mind had drawn up the picture of Bronn's troubled face when he told him of Robb Stark's change in plans.

The dwarf tried to push these suspicions out of his mind, for emotions sake. But his clever nature wouldn't let him. He knew he had to be more cautious of how much information he gave the sellsword. He couldn't really hide the fact that the army was headed North now, though.

Part of it had been the dream too. Bronn was just like Shae and Tysha. Tywin would take this from Tyrion too. The dream had thrown him into some sort of strange paranoia. He didn't like it either. He didn't like not being able to trust his last friend. If only Podrick were there with him.

Right now Tyrion was riding alongside the sellsword, somewhere near the front of the miles of soldiers stretching into the distance. King Robb hadn't called for his council yet, most likely because he was being bombarded by objections from his lesser lords. The words coward and green boy had been shoved around throughout the camp.

So the dwarf was left to himself and his suspicions. "What do you think of our new king's decision?" Tyrion asked Bronn.

"I think it was mostly your decision." Bronn returned casually. "I'm made for swords against swords, not all this diplomatic shit."

"I wonder how Robb thinks he's going to get back home without the aid of Walder Frey." Tyrion supplied cautiously. He knew of Walder Frey's new allegiance to Tywin, only because of Varys and his little birds. This was something Bronn would only know if Tywin had supplied it to him.

Bronn took a moment, then shrugged. "He could find a longer way across."

Damn. That hadn't given Tyrion any useful insight. "I suppose." He left it at that. "Or he could try to right the wrong he did by spurning Lord Frey's daughters." If Bronn wasn't working for Tywin, he would think that Walder Frey might still be pleased by a marriage and not the gold and security that comes with Lannisters.

"Knowing what you've said about 'im, I'd expect Lord Stark would have to marry all of them." Bronn chuckled. "That's a fate I wouldn't mind, if they weren't all so damn ugly."

"Yes, the Frey girls have quite the reputation." Tyrion offered a laugh. "I suspect this will be the next thing The Young Wolf will want my opinion on." _And I'll tell him the truth of it. But I won't tell you. As far as you're concerned, we're still trying to make peace with the man._

"I'm tired of all this ridin' around, not seeing nobody but the same old northern cunts, smelling like horse shit. I still don't see why you wanted to come North." Tyrion had almost become used to Bronn's complaining.

"You wouldn't understand. You don't know my father." _One would hope, anyway…_

"I'm bored. There hasn't been a good fight or a good fuck in weeks. Lord Stark's payin' me to spy on you, but not enough for a camp follower- Not the pretty ones, at least."

That had all been part of the plan. Robb would never let Bronn stay in Tyrion's service unless he didn't think the sellsword would actually protect him. Bronn had come to Robb while Tyrion was being held in a pen and offered to be a spy for a decent amount of gold. Tyrion had thought it up himself. They both knew that the dwarf was doing nothing that needed spying.

"If you're bored, go look for the next man to call me 'imp' and rid him of a few fingers." Tyrion offered good naturedly. "We're marching North. There are no enemies in our way, and unless we run into a few storms, we've got nothing but politics to do."

"Never much liked politics. Too many fancy words." Bronn replied. "What do you plan to do when you get back to Winterfell? You said you wanted Casterly Rock, but you won't get it till winter's over this way."

"I plan to live." Tyrion informed him. "Fuck a few girls, read some books, do whatever I did the last time I was at Winterfell."

"And what am I to be doing?" Bronn questioned, sarcasm heavily lacing his words. "Brothels aren't as good up north. No one to fight or to pay ya to fight."

"We have to get to the north to enjoy it." Tyrion pointed out. "I do so hope we get there." He watched Bronn's face carefully. "It'd be a shame if someone were to stop us." He couldn't come right out and say 'it'd be a shame if my last friend turned traitor on me' or Bronn would know the ruse was up.

Bronn's face didn't change at all. "You said yerself, there's no enemies between us and there."

"I was thinking more of enemies within the ca-" They were interrupted by a guard riding up to them from the head of the column.

"King Robb commands your presence up front." He said gruffly.

Tyrion turned to Bronn and raised his eyebrows. "Well my friend, I'm off to battle." And he spurred his horse to follow the guard's.

Robb was waiting, this time with his wife beside him. She was very beautiful, although her face was too thin for Tyrion's liking. Certainly not worth losing a war over, no matter how beautiful she was.

"Imp." Robb greeted.

_Green Boy. _Tyrion might have greeted in return, but he held his tongue. "Your Grace."

"You've proved your usefulness once. What else do you have for me?" Robb had that dark, intense look on his face again. Did the man ever smile? He reminded Tyrion of his father so much it was almost painful to see.

"Walder Frey." Tyrion began. "Trust me when I say that you don't want to trust him. My father may not have ventured to tell me everything, but I still had some friends in court. Walder Frey means to betray you to my father, should the chance ever arise. Don't let the chance arise." Robb's face was a storm of anger. That was an expression Tyrion was becoming quite accustomed to.

"He is my bannerman, sworn to defend my house." Robb scowled.

"And you were sworn to wed one of his daughters." Tyrion regretted the words and the fury that swept into Robb's eyes.

"Do not call me an Oathbreaker, Imp." He growled. "I should take off your head for a turncloak and a kinslayer."

Tyrion feigned surprise. "Have I killed my family yet? I must be sleepwalking again."

"Is this a joke to you?" Robb asked harshly.

"Hardly. My own life is at stake." Tyrion answered. "And if you go to Walder Frey's, you will never leave. You can find another way across the river. It will take longer, but we have all winter."

Robb glared at the back of his horse's head for a few moments, deep in thought. "This is useful information. How can I be sure that this is true?"

"You've trusted me before. Could it be that our affections are waning? Of what benefit is it to me to lie? To slow you down so my father can catch you? He doesn't plan to attack. Go to Walder Frey's if you insist, but kindly leave me out of it. When the daggers come out at the feast, then you'll wish you'd trusted me."

Robb glared again. He seemed to do it when he was thinking. "I will think on all you've said and discuss it with my liege lords once we make camp. You're to attend the war council. My mother has also warned me of Walder Frey's treachery in the past. We will not be marching home that way."

Tyrion's shoulders sagged in relief. It was getting a bit weary, worrying what Robb's decisions would do to Tyrion. He made to turn his horse around, but Robb stopped him.

"One more thing, Imp. If I hear one word about Tywin Lannister getting word of our change in plans, your head will decorate the gates of Winterfell."

"He will not have it from me." Tyrion assured Robb, spurring his horse back to the middle of the column.

He found Bronn again and fell into step with the sellsword's horse. "Each time the outlook gets slightly less bleak." He said happily.

"How d'ya mean?" Bronn glanced at him.

_Our Young Wolf is staying far away from Walder Frey. _But Tyrion stopped the words. Mistrust stayed his tongue. "Robb Stark…" Tyrion hesitated, weighing how much to give away. "Says he wants to join back with Walder Frey's army, and bring them North too. I don't know what his lords will make him do, but it seems as if that's the way he'll go."

It was the hour of the wolf, ironically, when Bronn began his next letter to Tywin. He didn't like confronting his own feelings, he'd rather deny having feelings at all. So now, he resolved to tell Tywin the truth. _Robb's changed his plans. He wants to go North. He's joining with Frey's army. _He had rehearsed the words while waiting for Tyrion's snores to give him leave to write.

He pulled out the quill and ink and sat with his hand poised above the parchment.

He waited.

He cursed himself for a bloody fool.

He went over the words again.

_Bloody fucking fool, you are._

Finally, he started to write.

_Lord Tywin, _

_Robb Stark still means to attack. He doesn't trust Walder Frey. He's staying far away from him. _

Another lie. The opposite of what Tyrion had told him. But the bad feeling in his stomach had completely evaporated. He looked over to sleeping Tyrion. _Little shit of an imp…Doesn't deserve a father like that. _That scar on his face didn't make him look more ferocious, if he ever had looked ferocious before. In this light, his face looked round and pale, almost innocent, and Bronn could've laughed at the words "innocent" being used to describe Tyrion, if he had realized he was thinking all this as he stared at Tyrion's face.

He pocketed the letter, sealing it, and stood up. He wondered when one of Varys's little birds would tell Lord Tywin that Robb was marching North, and that Bronn's words counted for shit. Until then, he could at least try and keep Tyrion safe.

He didn't admit this to himself; thought it but cut it off before it could form. He pushed the tent flap aside, and walked off into the night.

_****One more chapter down. Things will start to pick up pace as the story progresses and they get moving back North. Believe me, the next chapter will end on a huge cliffhanger, bigger than the rest. I hope, anyway.** **_


End file.
